These people were betting on him.
And the person who had set up the betting pool...
Mo Hua looked toward the White-Clad Cultivator in the crowd, his expression cold.
The White-Clad Cultivator was still chatting with the others, complaining:
"That pretty boy surnamed Mo only knows a few spells. He got lucky and won this time, but he'll definitely lose next time."
"Sooner or later, someone will beat him black and blue, just like..."
He pointed at the betting board, at the crooked drawing of "ugly Mo Hua." "Just like that."
The others burst out laughing.
Bai Xiaosheng, who had been gossiping about Mo Hua behind his back, looked pleased with himself too.
Then a chill ran down his spine. He turned and saw a handsome face and a pair of distinctly unfriendly eyes.
Bai Xiaosheng's heart gave a thump.
What the hell? When did this kid get behind me?
I'm a Golden Core Peak Stage cultivator, and I didn't notice a thing?
Is this kid some kind of ghost?
Bai Xiaosheng fell silent. He quietly swept all the Spirit Stones before him into his Storage Bag, then told everyone:
"Break it up, break it up. Don't talk about people behind their backs."
He was the one who had been doing exactly that.
The others gave him a disdainful look, then glanced at Mo Hua.
They thought this pretty boy called Young Master Mo had gotten this far with nothing but a Fireball Technique, which was hardly impressive. But that was something to say behind his back.
A cultivator who could win matches in the Sword Discussion Arena was not someone to provoke.
They dared not make trouble in front of Mo Hua, so they drifted away one by one.
Mo Hua glanced at the lopsided portrait of himself on